


That is a Good Batch!

by NemmyJL



Category: The Great British Bake Off RPF, UnREAL (TV)
Genre: Other, gbbo - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-26
Updated: 2015-08-26
Packaged: 2018-04-17 08:40:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4660035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NemmyJL/pseuds/NemmyJL
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Quinn King is headhunted by the BBC to help bolster ratings for the wildly popular programme, The Great British Bake Off, hoping to ensure its continued success by providing juicier tabloid fodder and more outrageous watercooler moments. [May throw in a little W1A from time to time.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	That is a Good Batch!

"No, I will not be coming back to San Francisco," said Quinn, carefully fluffing her bangs. "It's just one season, Chet, calm the hell down, or...have Wagerstein get you some Valium, she's got a stash, she hands 'em out on set like it's Hallowe'en!" There was only the slightest of pauses before she snapped her compact shut and pursed her lips at the wobbling image of her perennially-baked ex on her laptop. "What am I even saying? You probably ring that doorbell every twenty minutes. Look, just let Rachel get on with running _Everlasting_ and try not to bother her. She needs all her focus on the show. Don't ruin this for her--or for me. Just try not to."

"Whatever they've offered you--"

"You couldn't afford to outbid them. Do you have any idea how big this show is over here? It's their spoiled brat baby. The BBC is ready to throw the entire nation's license fees at a goddamn baking competition. _Pounds sterling_ , Chet. I've just been elected the new Queen. Of cake."

She couldn't quite help smiling at the thought. It was completely ridiculous and exactly the sort of challenge she craved.

"...are...are you Skyping me while you're driving?" asked Chet, his brow furrowing.

"I'm in England, dumbass!" She spun the computer towards the front seat, where a salt-and-pepper head and gloved hands were deftly guiding the dark sedan through the sluggish traffic of central London. "And I have a driver." Quinn couldn't recall his name or even what the front of his head looked like, but that did not bother her.

"Oh yeah, other side of the--right..." Chet muttered, before an idea seemed to strike him in the midst of another thought, as they always seemed to do. "Hey, maybe I could..."

"Chet, if you turn up in town I am going to roll you into the Thames facedown once you've passed out."

"But...Quinn, I gotta see you..." 

"You're seeing me now!" she said, with a grin as the shopfronts of Regent Street slid past her window. "And the view is spectacular."

\---

"Quinn, my dear, so good to see you--" Richard went for the double air-kiss somewhere in the vicinity of her ears and Quinn gave a tight smile. Awkward affectations or not, men were men, and she felt that British ones couldn't be that different from Americans. Between them, Chet and Adam had proved that they were scum. "--can I get you anything? Coffee? Tea?"

"A glass of water would be fine." As if she could trust anyone here to make a latte that wouldn't make her hop a cab straight back to Heathrow. "So--what is it you're looking to get from me, Richard?"

The greying, paunchy man who had hired her smiled faintly, tapping together his fingers where he sat behind his desk.

"We're well aware of the difficulties we face in our industry...the struggles to keep our content exciting, and our ratings high."

"Yeah, I'll bet you struggle," said Quinn with a frank laugh. "Baking, Richard? In a tent? I'll admit I only said yes because it sounded so ludicrous."

"You can't argue with our statistics," he pointed out. "The country goes mad for it. You've been over the footage I sent you?"

"Until I felt myself getting physically sick, yeah, I watched it. I'm not an idiot, Richard--I do my research. It's a Cath Kidston hellscape." Her glass of water appeared beside her and she took a brief sip as the footsteps of whatever invisible force had delivered it retreated. "Me, I deal in breakdowns sandwiched between fluffy golden layers of fights and frosted all over with thick creamy sex." Richard coughed into his cup of tea, the cup clattering against the saucer for a moment as he set it down. "What do you want me to do, here?"

"Exactly that," he said. "But you have to understand that the BBC must operate a little differently to your American networks. We've been under a lot of scrutiny with regards to spending--"

"Given the global economy, who hasn't? But people are still willing to shell out if the entertainment is good enough."

"Precisely. We need to keep this ball rolling. We don't want people to get tired of it. We want to draw in more viewers--not just the grannies. But we don't want to alienate the grannies either."

"That's a little unfair to grannies. In my experience they like a man's waxed chest and some hair-pulling as much as the next girl. More, even. Their clocks are counting down to death and they have fewer fucks to give."

"...that's...as may be, but what I'm asking is that all details of your contract be kept private...we'll need a certain level of discretion around your involvement--bringing in an American of your reputation to such a cherished programme...to something so staunchly _British_ , well..."

"I'm gonna dump your tea in the harbour, am I?"

"We've had some more...shall we say, _organic_ sorts of scandals--which we've made the best of at the time. Bingate. Ruby's...Ruby. Ruby generated a lot of chat."

"Melting ice cream and a some throaty sobbing?" Quinn leaned forward in her seat, her spike heels clicking softly against the polished floor as she uncrossed her ankles. "Richard, that is the baseline of normal operations on _Everlasting_. People crying is my white noise. It helps me sleep."

"I know. We want you to help us throw in more...just more. Do what you do. We've got twelve different people from all walks of life--there must be something to do with them. Don't worry about the baking or anything technical...just get people talking. Get them arguing. We want our audience to gasp."

Quinn's smile spread slowly over her face, and she folded her manicured hands in her lap.

"Oh, I'll make them _scream_."


End file.
